Ruby and Azure
by ArchFaith
Summary: Nash Latkje. Sierra Mikain. The swordsman, the vampire, an empty room, one bed, and a calculated kiss set it all off one eventful night on the road. Chapter 2: Going to sleep? Who feels like going to bed at a time like this...?
1. Contradiction

Notes: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Note: My fourth romp into the world of Nash and Sierra! But here's a little advice: this fic right here is the **edited **version of Ruby and Azure. There's an **unedited **version rated NC-17 at adultfan. nexcess. net/aff(remove the spaces!) so if you'd like to see a Nash/Sierra lemon, go to the site.

**Special note**: Alright, a lot of people have been telling me that the use of Nash's nickname for Sierra, "old girl", should be toned down a little (I guess because it sounds insulting). But do you want to know why he uses it so often? Well, "old girl" originally started out as his way of teasing her about her age, but over time, it's come to mean much more to them. Now, when he calls her "old girl", it's just his way of saying "sweetheart" or "darling" or something akin to that. Get it? Got it! GOOD!

Ruby and Azure

Chapter 1: Contradiction

by ArchFaith

The room was quite ordinary by anyone's standards. Its walls were constructed of plain, aging brown wood, and nothing hung upon it save a small cracked mirror. An old side table was pushed up against a corner of the room, its top nearly collapsing from the old rotted legs; two chairs, their ancient backs constructed of straw, were pushed carelessly next to it. The bed was rather large, and could occupy two people—it had a long pillow, and a quilt that had been many times patched and mended. Next to the bed, upon a small end table, stood a dusty white bowl and a solitary candle, waxing the night away on its slow journey towards light.

Just an ordinary room.

That is, until the door opened.

The tall blonde man stepped inside, long green coats swaying against the doorframe as he eyed the room briefly with sky-colored lenses. Rapidly calculating that it was safe to continue inside, his cloaks softly swished against the open door as he entered, running his hands through his hair and sighing in obvious exhaustion.

The woman was more critical. She stood in the doorway of the room with a scrutinizing glance, arms folded, her large red eyes sweeping over every aspect of the small, basic space. Within a few seconds she was satisfied, and entered, gently closing the door behind her. "Well," she began, putting her hands on her hips, "it's adequate, I suppose."

Her companion unceremoniously plopped down onto the bed and, reaching down, began to untie his boots. "Yup. I've seen worse." He kicked the boots off his feet and stood up once again, this time reaching for the old ratty scarf that was draped about his shoulders.

She scowled as he gently folded the pale fabric and laid it on the side table. "Of course, we would not even have to be spending the night in a place like this if _you _had been built in a sturdier manner."

He smiled, his blue eyes traveling to her direction as he started to unfasten the closure of his long green forest cloak. "C'mon Sierra, don't be so harsh! I'm only human, you know. Not everyone can have your awesome supernatural powers, old girl."

She sighed. "A real human, man or woman, would have been able to continue walking for at least five more miles! Honestly, Nash, you have the strength of a child."

The smile was still upon his lips as he drew out a chair and gently lay his cloak down on it. Next came the clasps on his vest…

Sierra sighed once again and gently shrugged her violet cape off her shoulders. She laid it down next to Nash's cloak and then kicked off her blue shoes, letting them land in a pile by the corner. Argue as she may, she too was tired; but to let the boy know this would have been unacceptable in her eyes. Still, she had an odd little feeling that he did know after all.

Seconds passed, and he was still trying to undo the clasps on his vest. She smirked. "So many layers of clothing," she hissed, her voice cold and elegant. "If you had half the strength I had, you would not need to wear so much to protect your fragile body."

He looked up at her and chuckled. "This old gear has gotten me through a lot. I'd wear it even if I _was_ immortal."

She cocked her head momentarily as he struggled with the second clasp, then slowly reached up and pulled the hair band out of her wispy silver hair. She ran a hand through the straight locks and let some short strands frame her pale face.

He immediately noticed the change in her appearance out of the corner of his eye. The sudden, tousled appearance of her normally ordered hair was distracting him as he fiddled around with the clasp. "Funny…it wasn't this hard last time I took it off…" he mumbled, hoping she wouldn't notice the source of his distraction.

A silent laugh echoed within the walls of her soul as she noted the reason he was so miserably messing about. Feigning ignorance, she sighed. "Imbecile." Slowly she reached out her hands. Her delicate fingers came to rest on his hands for an instant, and at once he felt a rush of warmth against his chest; but the seemingly tender gesture was invalidated when she pushed them away a few seconds later. Coming closer to him, she placed her fingers on the small metal fastener.

Her face was only inches away from his. He studied her slightly unkempt hair, her pale, smooth skin, the eyes that bent downward to accomplish their task. Within a few seconds she had undone all the clasps on his vest. She backed away as he pulled it off and placed it over his cloak on the chair. Underneath he wore yet another garment, a long brown shirt tunic that he was now starting to pull over his head.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her tone so brusque he immediately stopped to look at her.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

She sighed. "Please keep your inner layers of clothing _on._ I am not in the habit of being treated to any kind of spectacle when it comes to getting undressed."

_But then again, a little bit of a show isn't too bad sometimes, _the voice inside her head whispered simultaneously as she uttered her scolding.

He seemed to get the picture; but whether he got the true meaning was unknown. "Hahaha." The shirt slid back down over his well-toned chest muscles. "You're missing out, old girl. Most women love being treated to my 'spectacle'."

"I'm sure," she answered, yawning. As much as she hated to admit, she too was very exhausted from the long hike that day—the endless sun bearing down on them from the early morning to noon, the heat of the afternoon day, the soft breeze of twilight. And now night—night was for sleeping. Unnatural for a vampire, yes—but necessary when one took a long journey with a brittle-boned little mortal boy.

She was about to cross the room to get into the bed when she realized something she had not realized upon entering. No…well, that couldn't be right. It definitely could not.

So did her eyes deceive her, then? Perhaps she was simply not looking hard enough. But then again, she was Sierra, the ruby-eyed beauty whose vision surpassed any mortal man or woman. And she _was _looking hard enough.

"I do not believe it," she whispered softly as Nash pulled the curtains over the small window.

"Eh? You say something?" he asked, turning to her.

She regarded him with an angry glare. "Did you not realize when we entered? There is something amiss with this room!"  
He looked around him. "Amiss?" Mirror, window, table, chairs, bed…"Oh! A water pitcher. I'll just go downstairs early tomorrow and get one." Somehow, he realized, that was not it. Sierra would not start acting strangely because of a missing pitcher. But what else could possibly be wrong, then?

She sighed in irritation. "No, you moron. Look around you! Are you blind!" She crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips.

_"There's only one bed."_

Usually, when they had stayed at inns, there had been two.

But this meant…

"Oh," he stated simply, unable to say more. "So there is…" His face had momentarily flushed red; but in an instant it paled back to its normal color, and with effort he quickly tried to cover up his real embarrassment. "Well, guess we'll have to share," he said, a nervous smile upon his face as he sunk down upon the bed and leaned back, his arms propping him up. "Want me to take my clothes off now?" _Damn, that was the wrong thing to say…_

She did not discern his inner anxiety; her own was slowly building inside her. Clearly, the only thing to do would be to disguise it as annoyance. Her red eyes gleamed as she quickly strode across the room to grab Nash by the collar, yanking him towards her. "You idiot! I have always told you to ask for a room with two beds!"

"I did! I swear!" he answered, trying to pry her fingers off his neck. "Look, the innkeeper told me it had two beds…!"

"Well apparently he was mistaken. Go back downstairs and request another room!"  
He sighed. "Listen, Sierra, the old man told me the entire inn was full, and that there was only one vacancy. He probably told us there were two beds in order to get us to stay here and not in some other inn…"

She let him go and he flew back onto the bed. "Of all the situations…!" she exclaimed, the deadly glare upon her face as eyed her flustered companion. "We have to leave. We must find some other place to stay tonight."

"Yeah? Leave and go where? In case you haven't noticed, I'm exhausted and so are you! And where would we stay? This is the only inn for miles around! Unless you want to sleep outside again…"

Outside. In the mud and grass, amidst the hum of those infernal insects.  
She sighed in frustration. The boy was right this time. They were both extremely tired, there were no other lodgings for miles around; the only alternative would be to sleep around a campfire once again, as they had done so for the last few nights…

Ah, she had dearly been expecting the comfort of an actual bed, with a blanket and pillow and mattress…

…and possibly a certain blonde boy curled up between them…

These thoughts had to stop, now. She crossed her arms and brought her narrowed eyes to rest upon her feet. "Fine," she finally agreed, the scowl still on her lips. "I suppose there are no other options."

Nash cocked his head. Good, a possibly bad situation had been thwarted. He really couldn't have stood yet another night "roughing it", as they had been for about three weeks now. Finally, a nice warm bed to curl up in…

Curl up with Sierra in…

He quickly divorced the thoughts from his mind as the angry vampire scanned his face, her arms still crossed. "Hmph," she sighed, narrowing her eyes. "I can tell what thoughts you're thinking, boy. And let me tell you, whatever you think may happen tonight…_won't_."

He put his arms up in defense. "Hey, now wait a minute…"

She sighed once again. Fine. They would share a bed. They would act like adults and treat it as a professional matter. She would sleep on one side, he on the other, and they would not have to touch at all. Or at least she would try not to touch him.

_Somehow, something is going to happen. I can tell._

"Alright," she began, her eyes narrowing as she looked to her companion. "I will sleep on _this _side of the bed." She crossed over to the quilted sheets and gently patted the space occupying the left side of the bed. "And you will sleep on the right side." The glare on her face was evident as her eyes shifted back to him. "And you will not touch me at all during the night. Is that clear?"

She was speaking to him as if she were a self-righteous schoolmarm and he the disobedient little boy. He sighed.

_Give up the act already, old girl._

"Yes Sierra," he mumbled in a sing-song voice. He crossed his arms over his chest and grinned nervously. "What say we turn in? Standing here arguing all night won't energize us one bit."

She scowled once again as she eyed her uneasy companion. Well. At least he was making sense. "Alright, I shall agree to it." She gestured to the bed. "After you."

Sighing, he gently pulled back the quilted blanket and slowly climbed into the bed, his body immediately relaxing as he slid into the warm underblankets. He stretched himself out and laid his blonde head down upon the long pillow, but waited before he pulled the blanket back up to his neck. "Going to get in here with me, or what?" he questioned, smiling.

_I'm on to you, you know. This is going to be good._

Still scowling, she picked up the other end of the blanket and slowly slid down into the soft, warm recesses of the coverlet. Combined with the warmth of his own body, the resulting heat was quite nice to lie down in. She had to admit—vampires often sought warmth, since they could produce none of their own.

It took all his willpower not to reach over and pull her closer to him. Instead, he diverted his eyes to the candle upon the end table. "Shall I blow it out?"

She had taken the liberty of pulling the warm wool up to her chin. "Yes," she replied coolly. "By all means."

He blew. The flame immediately died, wisps of silver smoke curling up into the darkened room like a sad ghost seeking refuge.

Silver wisps like her hair…

He heard a sigh next to him in the darkness. She had turned onto her side and was now facing towards him, a neutral expression visible on her face as his eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight.

"Goodnight old girl," he whispered, laying his head back down onto the long pillow they both shared, his eyes furtively darting over her face.

She looked back at him, a slightly disillusioned look forming on her mouth. His hair was in his eyes again. To her own surprise, she reached out, her cold hand brushing against his cheek as she tucked the stray tendril back into place behind his ear.

"Your hair," she explained, yawning. Of course, in any other situation she would have never voluntarily touched him; but this was different—they were in the same bed, it was night, and she was too exhausted to be mortified. And his face had been so smooth. "Rest up, boy," she whispered as she closed her ruby-colored eyes.

He watched her with a questioning air as she shifted slightly, pulling the blanket closer around her. Why had she done that? A tender gesture…he had only received them from her a few times before, on extraordinary occasions. Perhaps it was just because she was tired—try as she might to say otherwise—or because she had been sleepy and incoherent. But then again, Sierra never did anything without purpose….

But never mind, his mind whispered as he felt the mantle of sleep begin to draw upon him. Now was not the time to think of such things.

The room seemed to sigh itself to rest as the two drifted into a deep state of slumber, their gentle breathing the only sound in the quiet space.

-

Her eyes fluttered open.

She did not bother to sit up. She already surmised that, from the moon's position, it was very early in the morning, perhaps between two and three o'clock. What a useless invention time was! Its only purpose was to enslave mortals, to bind them to an eternal progression of sleeping, eating, working, and all other useless manner of ritual. It was a good thing—and a bad thing—that she no longer had to worry about it.

She suddenly became aware of a warm forehead brushing against her own. Opening her eyes fully, she became aware of a pair of closed lids, framed by short blonde strands, barely more than an inch away from her face. Hmm. He hadn't been this close to her when they had first fallen asleep. They both must have shifted during the night; well, to find herself in a position like this…it was…_unexpected_, to say the least.

How vulnerable he looked, lying there, his chest gently rising with every breath he took. Very young; very naïve. How nervous he had seemed the night before, at the first mention of the mistake that had been made, of the one bed they had to share. She had seen his flushed cheeks, his wide eyes. _Cute_, she thought simply as she observed his resting form. He was indeed very good-looking—the look in his eyes, she found, often disarmed her barbed comments at the most inopportune of times.

She observed him for a time more, as he had probably done so many times to her before, when she herself had been asleep. Well, the tables were turned now; she was the one awake and alert, and he was the one sleeping, defenseless against any action she might choose to inflict upon him.

Hmm. Well, what _would _she do with him?

A curious development suddenly presented itself. Nash shifted slightly, his face drawing so close to hers that now both their foreheads and their noses touched. His lips, quivering slightly, were positioned directly across from hers; if she shifted her head up ever so slightly—she would be able to kiss him…

_Oh why in heaven's name am I thinking these thoughts?_ she asked herself as she stared at his closed eyelids. Of course, there was some sort of affection stirring between them; she was not sure what it was—friendship, admiration, companionship—one of those things—perhaps all of those things. But was there another affection that they had pushed out of their minds? One they thought about time and time again—one they had dismissed for the time being, one that only showed itself in small, infinitesimal outbursts every now and then?

Her indecisive behavior was beginning to annoy her. Time to take action.

She slightly raised her head on the pillow, and gently let her cold lips settle down onto his warm mouth. She pressed gently, hoping that he would not wake—and, at the same time, hoping he would.

Slowly he began to react to her kiss; his lips parted slightly, and his head tilted forwards, his tousled hair brushing against her silvery strands. Soon he was kissing her fully; his tongue brushed gently against her mouth, and his hand reached up to gently squeeze her shoulder.

Hmm. Very interesting. It was be quite amusing to see where all this went.

To be continued...

Notes: Feedback, good or bad, is welcome.


	2. Initiative

Note: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Special Note: Again, this is the **edited** version of Chapter 2…the actual, NC-17 version can be found at adultfan. nexcess. net/aff (remove the spaces!) The entire lemon has been taken out for this copy.

Ruby and Azure

Chapter 2: Contradiction

by ArchFaith

Someone was kissing him.

Was it a dream? Were these cool lips that kissed him so smoothly—these soft hands that now reached up to caress his face—the gentle wisps of hair that lightly touched his forehead—was it only in his imaginings?

He did not wish to open his eyes, lest his premonition turn correct—the feelings would disappear, and he would be thrust out into the cold, angry world once again, with no gentle touch to steady him in the darkness.

But a slight emotion inside told him to open his eyes, to see what exactly was taking place outside the closed lids; to see what sort of opportunity lay before him.

Gently he brought up the shades of his visual window, straining to see in the darkness; even as he struggled, he still felt the gentle pressure of supple lips on his own, the quiet hunger that pervaded this kiss. What…who was this…?

He was only slightly surprised to see his companion's pale skin and silvery hair pressed up against his face in the dim light. She noticed his eyes were half-open, their glazed pupils slowly focusing on her as continued to devour his mouth. Gently she eased away—little by little she applied less pressure, until finally her lips parted from his. He fought back the deep urge to pull her back again, to savor the feel of her soft mouth on his own.

She lightly pulled away, her red eyes resting on his now-opened eyelids. So, he had woken after all. It was what she wanted—and at the same time, what she didn't want. What was she to say to him now, anyway? Surely he would ask why…and surely she would have to answer him.

He stared back at her—her steady red gaze, the slight quivering of her mouth, the slow rise and fall of her chest. So, he had been right after all. Something _had_ happened this night. Of course he was a little surprised—he would never be able to tell exactly when Sierra was in one of those moods—but, on the inside, he felt good. So her feelings did extend to that realm—he had previously thought they stopped short.

"You're good at kissing, old girl," he whispered, smiling as he tentatively stretched out his fingers. Delicately he laid them against her faintly warmed cheek; she sighed and momentarily closed her eyes as his skin met hers.

"Of course I am. Eight hundred years worth of life amounts to something on this world, does it not?" she murmured back, her voice only half-incensed as he stroked her face.

He continued to smile playfully. "Well, now I see it does," he answered, his fingers moving from her face to the strands of hair that lay on her shoulder. "Well…was there any particular reason…?"

So he asked, at least. She sighed; she had not prepared any sort of explanation for this type of position. "Well, as it was, when I awoke your face was very close to mine on the pillow; and I decided to see if perhaps, they felt the same as when I kissed you before—that night after we defeated Rean…"

He nodded, only half-believing. For once in her long lifetime, the great Sierra had been rendered speechless. It was a truly historical moment.

She could feel his disbelief. "Alright, alright," she began, a scowl forming on her face once again. "Perhaps that is not the full reason. Perhaps…I do not know. I just wished to."

He blinked as she continued to stare into his eyes. "I see," he answered. His fingers had slowly withdrawn from her hair and his hand was now resting by his side. "Well, not all actions have clear reasons."

She nodded, slowly feeling her own face turn to a light shade of pink. This was not good; vampires did not blush often because it required a great amount of blood to rush to their faces at once. And on the rare occasions when they did—it was a truly discomforting thing they had witnessed. "Yes, for once you are right," she said, her voice faltering a little.

"Then…would you mind if I kissed you again?" he suddenly asked, his inflection sounding with an almost unperceivable hint of urgency. Nervous as he was—for Sierra was not a woman to be toyed with—it was just too good a prospect to let go. A chance like this might not come again for a long time.

Her eyebrows arched; her eyes opened wide as she maintained her steady gaze upon him. _It wouldn't hurt_, she thought simply as she imagined the feel of his lips on hers once again. _It might even be fun. But not more than that. Just a kiss._

"I would not mind," she answered, letting her head back sink onto the pillow.

Slowly he lowered his head, quivering lips hovering over her own as he calmly pressed his mouth to hers. Ah…this was even better than before. Now they were both fully responding; they were both fully aware of what they were doing, and who they were doing it with. And they wanted it. Wanted it and needed it.

The primal rush had been awoken.

The soft, light gestures rapidly evolved into forceful, almost violent motions as they continued to kiss, their tongues now brushing against each other as they explored the insides of the other's mouth. His hands shot up to her squeeze her shoulders once more; she found her hands involuntarily snaking up his neck. Slowly his hands began making their way down the length of her body, down her hips, her waist, her thighs; she found herself pressed up against the hard muscles of his chest, and momentarily threw back her head, in obvious pleasure.

_Just a kiss…_

"H-hold on a minute," she gasped, quickly batting his hands off her thigh, and setting her hiked-up skirt back into place. "Before anything happens, now…"

He cocked his head. Ah. Once they had stopped playing around, the full extent of what they were about to do suddenly became clear to him. He felt the horrible blush rising to his face once again, and did his best to try and calm it down. "If this isn't what you want, then…"

She sighed. "No. No, it's not that. Of course it is." The words had just slipped out. She hadn't meant to phrase it so…bluntly. But she had no time to disguise it. And so she must continue. "I would just like to have a moment to think, that is all." Her eyes, which had been lowered before, now rose to meet his. "You are…a virgin?"

The crimson glow on his face, which had temporarily decreased, now deepened once again. "No," he answered simply. "I'm not a complete novice, you know…"

She nodded. "Yes, I figured as much." She blinked neutrally. "Nor am I."

He looked to her quizzically. "You told me you were back when we were visiting at Rean's mansion…? What about the 'virgin's intuition' you were talking about?"

A thin smile formed upon her lips, the first he had seen her wear in a long time. "Alright, that was a small lie," she admitted, slowly sitting up to pull her knees against her chest.

He smiled back, and propped himself on his arms as he too sat up, legs crossed. "I knew from the start anyway. Eight hundred years with a body like yours…who would be?"

They laughed together, the first time in their tempestuous relationship when they had been able to feel a moment of genuine amusement with the other. The faint smile was still upon her lips as he slowly edged closer to her, their hips touching as he turned to face her. "To tell you the truth…heh, you've probably already realized…this is embarrassing to admit…but I'm—"

"—nervous?" she answered. "Well, that was obvious. You were nervous from the first time I pointed out that there was only one bed."

"Haha," he answered, scratching his head. "You nailed it. But that's just one thing. There's another."

"Oh?" she asked, suddenly interesting. "And what would that be?"

His firm eyes locked onto hers, blonde strands partially obscuring his vision. "That you're a lot less irritable…and a lot more understanding…when we're about to make love."

The last sentence caught her off guard. Yes, yes…that was inevitably what they were going to do. How else could this conversation end? With them going back to sleep, forgetting anything had ever happened, waking up the next morning to argue and fight once more?

No.

She absently twirled a strand of her own hair between her fingers. "You assume I will agree to that, do you?" she answered, some of the old callousness returning.

He smiled gently. Even if she did try to seem indifferent and bored…she was consenting. "Well, do you?"

She stared into his eyes, her presence at once captivating and nerve-wracking as she leaned back onto the bed, her eyes narrowing as she looked up at him.

God. That smirk once again. Even though he knew she was only teasing, his blood almost boiled as leaned down close, letting his lips brush against her own as he placed his hands on her arms. The ancient emotions had been stirred up once again; the stage was set.

-

The course of the night was difficult for them to plot afterwards—all they knew, all they remembered was the warm feeling of the other's body, the aching pleasure received and given—the secure glow that radiated afterwards, when he felt her wispy strands against his face, her soft lips absently resting on his cheek…

…_his hand squeezing her shoulder…_

-

She cracked open a ruby eye.

The sunlight nearly blinded her. Who had opened the windows? The curtains were neatly pulled back—what carelessness!

Eyes still glazed from sleep, she groped around the bed, expecting to find Nash sleeping peacefully next to her; she would shake him and tell him to shut the damn window…

Mmmm, but he wasn't there. The sheets felt unbearably cold as her fingers danced over their surface. Sighing, she rubbed the sand out of her eyes and stretched. The ruby pupils grew smaller as she quickly scanned the small room. Still the same—table, chairs, bed…his green cloak and undervest still lay draped over one chair. Yet Nash himself was nowhere to be seen.

Where the devil was he? They could have departed hours ago; judging from the strong sunlight it was already mid-morning…

She sat up and pulled the blanket up to cover her nude body. The vivid memory of the night before still lingered in her mind as she slipped over the side of the bed and rapidly located her discarded skirt and blouse, which lay in a heap on the floor. Damned fool; he hadn't even thought to fold them up for her…

She slipped on her skirt, and finished buttoning the closures on her blouse when the door to the room quietly creaked open. The blonde Harmonian appeared in the doorway, donning his familiar leggings and tunic—items that, the previous night, had been so willingly shed…she threw the thought out of her head as he entered the room.

He immediately noticed her and, frowning, shut the door behind him. In one hand he carried a scarred white pitcher—no doubt containing cold water. The very thing that he had promised to retrieve for her the night before.

"Morning, old girl," he greeted, attempting to smile. He raked his free hand through his hair and set the pitcher down on the side table, next to the large bowl. "I went down early to get you some water…thought you might want to wash up."

She raised her eyebrows as the red blush began to appear on his cheeks. Of all times to be embarrassed! He tried to laugh it off. "Had a good sleep?"

She blinked. "As good a sleep as might have been expected," she replied neutrally, going over to the pitcher and pouring the water into the bowl.

He watched as the clear liquid splashed down into the basin. "Well, that's good."

She dipped her hands into the water and splashed it over her face—ah, her face. Something was different about her skin today—perhaps it was just the sunlight reflecting on it, but it seemed more natural, more human-like today. Instead of her usual ghostly tint, her skin appeared to radiate a healthy pink hue. She could almost pass for a young mortal girl.

She noticed his questioning glance. "What are you staring at?"

"Your skin..."

"Hm? What do you mean?" she crossed the room to look at the small cracked mirror that hung against the wall. Her eyebrows flew up at she gazed upon her visage in the glass. She looked…alive. Her face, hands, probably even her legs—all now displayed a pinkish trace.

"Curious," she murmured as Nash continued to watch, his hands on his hips as she turned away from the mirror. "Well…it is nothing out of the ordinary, I suppose." She returned to the bowl and once again dipped her hands in it. "My skin was probably the same color as we made love last night…"

She froze. _My skin was probably the same color as we made love last night…_! What in the world had she just said! The phrase had slipped out—it was not deliberate! Ah, beloved awkwardness—her only comfort was the fact they could not have possibly continued on without it.

He noted her slip of the tongue, and her immediate reaction. Should he ignore it? Perhaps they could on like nothing ever happened—they could leave this place and pretend they were just restless, arguing traveling companions, just as before. Yet, at the same time, he knew they could not.

She was silently drying her hands on a length of fabric when he spoke. "Sierra…listen. About last night…"

The words died on the wind. He did not know what to tell her; she wasn't even facing him. A sigh escaped his lips; what strange things love wrought in the wake of pleasure.

She turned to glance at him. Oh, there was no use acting like she usually did anymore! She didn't feel like calling him names or putting him down; she didn't feel like ordering him around or telling him how weak he was. No matter how she tried to put the events out of her mind, they remained. She could not pretend that nothing had happened; the atmosphere was too charged.

He eagerly awaited her words. What "wisdom" would she impart? The fact that she had forgotten all that happened between them? The fact that she had only been using him—that she felt no emotion whatsoever towards him?

"It is awkward for me to say this," she began. "But know, Nash Latkje…that everything I did last night…I _meant_." She sighed as he gently grasped her hands between his, massaging her palm with his fingers as she continued. "Very well, then. I will admit it—I have a certain fondness for you, boy. And I decided to act upon it last night because—well, it was the perfect opportunity to test your affection." She lowered her gaze. "There is no simple way to say this, is there?"

He shook his head. "You're doing a good job, old girl. Don't think I could have done better." He gave her a soft smile. "You and I are both fools."

"Yes," she agreed, laying her head on his shoulder. "We are." He immediately wrapped his arms around her waist, and held her; it seemed a long while they stayed in that position, eyes closed, his hands smoothing her silver hair.

Finally he spoke. "Would it be fair to call us lovers, Sierra?"

It was a short while before she responded. "Yes; yes, I think so," she answered, opening her eyes. "But don't think for a second that I'm going to allow your moronic attitude to slip past me now."

He raised his eyebrows. "Well, then maybe you should speed it up."

She immediately pushed him away. "Oh for heavens sake! Hurry up and get dressed! We should have set out hours ago!"

"Well, we would have if you hadn't slept in so late, you old hag! Oh, but I guess I was just too much for you to handle, huh?"

She gave him a wicked little smile. "Just wait and see, boy. You'll be so exhausted tomorrow you won't be able to move."

He smirked. "I guess that's because I'll be dead."

-

The door closed. The blankets lay strewn on the mattress; the chairs were pulled out; and there was still some water left in the old white bowl. The curtains were neatly pulled back, and the sweet sunshine filtered in through the open pane.

Just an ordinary room.

The End

Note: And here we are, at the end of another Nash/Sierra fic. Hope you all liked it! Anyways, please tell me what you thought of it!


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